The Delivery of Decor (Shiloh Ridge Ranch in Three Rivers #7) - Liz Isaacson Page 0,97

“Did you tell her? What did you tell her?”

“I said everything you guys said to say.” Mister sighed, feeling worthless and oh-so-foolish. “Dear Lord, I told her I liked her. I said I wanted to date her. I used the words ‘not as friends.’ I did everything—and more—that you guys said to do.”

Preacher exhaled, and the line scuffled, which meant Charlie was listening too. “And she said no?”

“Her sister interrupted, and Libby ran away from me. She told Mildred I’d invited them both to the party—and that was after I’d said I wasn’t inviting Mildred. Only Libby.”

“Come back to the Ranch House,” Preacher said. “We’ll go over everything you said and she said. Surely she didn’t say no.”

Mister shook his head and gripped the steering wheel as he drove. He looked down at the speedometer and eased off the accelerator when he realized how fast he was going. “No,” he said. “I have to pick up some food for the party tomorrow night. I can’t go over it again. It was humiliating enough the first time.”

“Mister,” Charlie said. “Maybe you misunderstood.”

“Nope,” he bit out. “I have to go.” He hung up while Preacher was in the middle of saying something. Guilt strung through him, but Mister could apologize later.

He couldn’t believe she’d said no.

Chapter Thirty-One

Ward rolled over as his alarm filled the bedroom with birdsong. He silenced it and listened to the furnace blow hot air through the vents. The house wasn’t empty this morning, as Judge and Mister had come to stay for a few nights before Preacher and Charlie left on their honeymoon, but it wasn’t the same without Dot here.

She hadn’t called last night. He hadn’t called her. There had been no texts, and he told himself that a woman like Dot needed some distance. For him, though, the silence and distance between them signaled a problem. He hated it. He wanted to solve the problem and get her back into his life.

Judge had returned early from his date, saying that June had been called on by the cops to help with a case. Mister had stormed in several minutes later, yelled that Libby Bellamore had rejected him, and disappeared into the basement with the words, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Ward didn’t blame him. Sometimes the Glovers—particularly Judge—could talk things to death.

He sighed as he got out of bed and went down the hall to the kitchen. He made coffee and started to preheat the oven. Mister had brought back a quiche that just needed to be reheated, and Ward had said he’d get it ready for breakfast that day.

They’d put in a full day’s work on the ranch, just like always. The New Year’s Eve party didn’t start until eight. Ward couldn’t believe Bear thought it was a good idea to host a party at Shiloh Ridge, but the light parade had been cancelled this year due to the wind damage, and Bear said it was tradition to get together as a family to welcome in the New Year.

They did usually go down to Three Rivers for the light parade, with sandwiches and snacks and glow sticks. This would be the same party, but in True Blue instead of on the side of the road with the parade for entertainment.

“Bear wants to do a talent show tonight,” Judge said, entering the kitchen. He’d slept in a bedroom downstairs instead of Dot’s, and Ward quickly told himself it was not Dot’s bedroom. It was the bedroom where she’d slept for a few days. He’d stripped the bed and washed the sheets and blanket, pillowcases and shams. Everything.

“Oh, so that’s going to be the entertainment,” Ward said, reaching for a coffee mug. He did like having other people in the house, and he didn’t like the idea of living in Bull House alone.

“Yep,” Judge said. “Want to do a duet with me?” He got down a mug too, then turned to the fridge to get out the cream.

“Sure,” Ward said. “What do you think of me comin’ to live in the Ranch House?”

Judge set his mug down, along with the jug of cream. “Why?”

“Where’s Preacher gonna be when he gets back from Europe? The Ranch House?” Ward shook his head. “They’ve got two years before their place is done. He’s the foreman. He can’t live an hour away in Charlie’s house.”

Ward got out a couple of spoons, his mind whirring. He’d laid awake last night, thinking about Dot, and he supposed he’d worked out a few